


is she nothing (or she is your mirror)

by sixofclarkes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Memories, no becho bc ew, spacekru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25514302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixofclarkes/pseuds/sixofclarkes
Summary: Other times, he remembers her. It helps to refer to her by a pronoun, her name hurting like a blade to the chest whenever he hears it. Every single detail about her is still pressed into his mind, despite it being the one year anniversary of leaving her behind. Her long blonde hair that had been one of the biggest reasons for calling her ‘Princess’ and her ocean blue eyes that seemed to stare straight into his soul and opened him in a way he had never been exposed. Her soft snores whenever she took naps in the rover or slept in his room when the nightmares got to be too much to bear alone. her little dimples whenever she grinned at him, and the way the whole world seemed to stop for a few seconds. Her real smiles always had a way of fading out the rest of the world and making him forget their struggles momentarily.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Monty Green, Bellamy Blake & Raven Reyes, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Emori/John Murphy (The 100), Monty Green/Harper McIntyre
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	is she nothing (or she is your mirror)

Memories have always been a funny thing for Bellamy Blake, especially since they’re all he has left these days. Some days he remembers how he held Octavia after their mother passed out from giving birth to the small girl. The feel of a newborn child in his arms. their first hug in a year the day they arrived on earth. How she looked wielding a sword, standing confidently next to Lincoln. The warpaint on her face when she went into the Conclave, the last time he saw her.

Other times, he remembers her. It helps to refer to her by a pronoun, her name hurting like a blade to the chest whenever he hears it. Every single detail about her is still pressed into his mind, despite it being the one year anniversary of leaving her behind. Her long blonde hair that had been one of the biggest reasons for calling her ‘Princess’ and her ocean blue eyes that seemed to stare straight into his soul and opened him in a way he had never been exposed. Her soft snores whenever she took naps in the rover or slept in his room when the nightmares got to be too much to bear alone. Her little dimples whenever she grinned at him, and the way the whole world seemed to stop for a few seconds. Her real smiles always had a way of fading out the rest of the world and making him forget their struggles momentarily.

There are three things on the ring that shouldn’t come as a shocker when Bellamy thought about how he would explain life there to other people back on earth.

  1. He, Murphy, Raven, Emori, and occasionally even Monty get absolutely wasted talking about her. They take turns playing the blame game, always blaming themselves for her not surviving Praimfaya, and it’s always Bellamy who wins.
  2. Echo still doesn’t converse much with them and Bellamy is absolutely fine with that. When he sees her, he sees red because it should be _her_ in Echo’s place. _Her_ who deserved to survive that goddamn radiation storm and made it up to the ring. If Bellamy could redo anything in his life, he would have sent Echo to the tower and had _her_ either stay in the lab with Raven, Harper, and Emori, or come with him and Murphy to find Monty.
  3. Algae tastes like shit. What a shocker. Monty’s gotten the algae farm up and running for a while now and has all of them eat it for every meal. If it were almost anyone else, Bellamy would rather starve than eat it.



He wonders for a brief second if that’s how she died, if she made it back to the lab, only to find them gone and barely any supplies in their place. If she starved to death, slowly dying from both hunger, dehydration, and radiation poisoning, hating him for abandoning her to that fate. What was he doing when she took her final breath, he wonders. Probably drinking with Raven or staring down at a burning earth from the windowsill, the silence suffocating him.

Shaking his head, Bellamy turns his gaze to where his friends are laying. Murphy and Emori are curled up around each other, Emori almost knocked out and Murphy passing a canteen of moonshine to Raven. Monty is sprawled next to him, eyes slightly glazed over and staring at the ceiling with a look of deep concentration plastered on his face. It's a calm quiet in the room, comfortableness between the five of them that has always been so rare in Bellamy's life. The only people he's ever felt that he could be himself around up until this point have been Clarke and Octavia. The dead love of his life and his little sister, trapped in an underground bunker for four more years.

"Bellamy?"

Murphy's voice cut through the quiet and Bellamy glanced over at his friend.

"What, Murphy?"

"What color were her eyes?"

From next to him, Bellamy could feel Monty sitting up and watched out of the corner of his eye as his friend, who was clearly buzzed, replied before Bellamy could.

"Blue, dumbass."

Murphy rolls his eyes. "Obviously. but like, what _shade_ of blue?"

Bellamy responded before Monty could, his eyes finding a spot on the ceiling and staring at it hard. "The same color as the ocean, on a good day," he said stiffly. He felt the eyes of everyone in the room, even Emori, who had woken up to the sound of speaking, on him, but made sure his eyes stayed focused on the large spot of dust on the ceiling.

Emori spoke up next, softly. “I almost grabbed one of her jackets when we first came to the lab.”

Bellamy closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain that welled up inside his chest as the young woman continued.

“I shouldn’t have been such a bitch to her during the few times we interacted,” Emori murmured and Murphy pulled her closer to his chest, wrapping an arm around her tightly.

Raven spoke next, her voice bitter, and Bellamy peeked open an eye.

“I never apologized for saying that the only thing she was good at was deciding who lives or dies,” the dark-haired woman muttered, and Bellamy felt a stab of annoyance at the memory of that conversation.

He had been an outsider, standing just behind _her_ as moral support, as Raven harassed her into writing a list that further hurt the blonde’s relationships with both Monty and Jasper. Raven had never bothered to apologize, or step in as the people of Arkadia turned on _her_.

“I should have while we were in the lab together for the first time,” she continued, brushing a wisp of hair out of her face awkwardly. “Roan was the only person there who understood what she did when her stupid martyr complex had her go and inject herself with that shit while I just stood there and watched.”

Roan. Yet another person who, while Bellamy had never felt any sort of allegiance to the man, he still took some of the guilt for his death. It was stupid, there was nothing he could have done to prevent it, but it still hurt all the same.

He remembered his first encounter with Roan with an edge of distaste, but the anger he had once felt for the man was long gone. The ghost of the cold sword to his neck no longer felt like an icicle, but a mere shadow.

Bellamy remembered how _she_ had looked in the cave, tied to the wall, face full of exhaustion, yet it had lightened up immediately at the sight of him. How he had taken half a second to simply take _her_ in, with the new strands of pink visible, her hair wet from when she had later told him that Roan had pushed her into the water to wash out the red dye. How he had been so sure that he would get _her_ out of there, only for Roan to shove him to the ground, and threaten to kill him then and there.

Loving Clarke Griffin was never easy, from the moment he had met her to the day he left her behind. Loving her had seen a sword to his neck. A knife wound that had left him to nearly bleed out in the woods as he desperately tried to reach her. Long nights of drinking after Mount Weather because they were fucking supposed to do this together and she went and left like a goddamn coward- at least that’s what he had thought in the haze he had been in before Gina picked him up. It had seen his heart torn from his chest multiple times over and not a single time did he have any ounce of control over it.

But loving her had had the moments, however rare and short they may have been, where they could just be. Writing her name down as #100 on the list that Raven forced her to make and watching in a strange sort of awe as she rested her head on his hand in the moment of silence that followed. Flirting, if it could have even been called that, at Unity Day, and over the Oppenheimer quote when Raven set the bomb off. Bandaging each other’s hands and hearts in Niylah’s shop.

Six months into their time on the Ring, when he and Raven had gotten absolutely wasted, she compared him and Clarke to Orpheus and Eurydice. It had surprised him at first, that she had been listening enough when he told those myths, to make an accurate enough comparison. When he had asked her what she had meant, Raven had sighed.

* “You two were mirror images of each other,” she responded, slurring from the alcohol. “The Commander of Death and the Rebel King, or whatever stupid fucking nicknames those idiots gave you.”

But then she stopped, and for a moment, sobered up. “She would have killed for you, you know that, right?”

Bellamy was struggling to see straight until then, the words washing over him like a bucket of cold water as Raven continued.

“And she knew damn well you would have died for her.”

-

Murphy spoke next, sloshing around the bottle of moonshine and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “She drew a lot in Polis. I saw some of them while she was with Lexa.”

Despite himself, there was a tug in Bellamy’s chest at the mention of _her_ art. He had only ever seen a couple quick sketches, but knew her style well enough that he would be able to easily decipher which one was hers in a crowd. The rough, yet beautiful, lines of charcoal and dirt, could be easily recognized.

He thought about his first visit to the Skybox, during Month 3. At first, he had gone to see what Octavia’s old cell had been like, figured since his little sister had been in there for over a year of her life, he should know about it. But predictably, he had drifted over to a cell with the number #319 on the door in bold black. Pain shot through him as he remembered _her_ telling him in an offhand comment that she had been Prisoner #319 during her time in solitary confinement.

She had never told him much about her time in prison, though he assumed not much happened, with her being by herself the whole time and what not. Never had much time when the world was ending. But being inside the cell was an ethereal experience.

Fading charcoal drawings of Clarke’s idea of Earth covered every single inch of surface. The floor, the walls, even the ceiling, all had images of plants, buildings that were built before the first Praimfaya, animals before the radiation changed their entire appearance, and more.

It was all Bellamy could do to collapse against the wall, close his eyes, and cry himself into something that wasn’t quite sleep, wasn’t quite wakefulness. Just a tired exhaustion because he was so sick and tired of carrying the burden alone and he didn’t know how to do it without Clarke. They were supposed to do it together and then she up and went to the radio tower alone and died on a burning planet and it was all his fault-

“Bellamy?”

The soft, familiar voice of Monty next to him woke him out of his self hatred with a jolt, and Bellamy looked around the room. Raven, Emori, and Murphy had all passed out against the far wall while he wasn’t paying attention, and Monty looked close behind. The one perk of being the only one who wasn’t drinking that evening.

His friend studied him in a way that made Bellamy forget for a moment that he wouldn’t be able to stand properly when he tried to get up in a moment.

After a moment of silence, Monty asked a question that had Bellamy’s heart stuttering.

“Do you ever think about how you and she would have ended up together if she made it here?”

It’s a long pause before Bellamy speaks.

“Monty, I think about that every fucking day of my life in this shithole.”

**Author's Note:**

> * “I will go down into death with you / I must go where I must go  
> To see what I must see / In that place where no one knows...  
> ... This is where love is taking me.  
> You have been leading / Me, angels, in and out of death.  
> I have no idea who you are. / Eurydice. Is she nothing  
> Or is she your mirror?  
> I don't know anymore. / I am at war.  
> Perhaps that which is given - / Being human -  
> Is too hard, / And so it is love that brings us,  
> To what cannot be born,  
> To ourselves,  
> And so we must change, / Must descend, guided by love, into the unknown.  
> Lovers disappear in each other. / Do they disappear forever?  
> Where do they go?”


End file.
